


Early Risers

by A_Beautiful_Irony



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Early Mornings, Fluff and Humor, Laughter, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, The Author Regrets Nothing, just soft, sleepy lio, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 12:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21816274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Beautiful_Irony/pseuds/A_Beautiful_Irony
Summary: When Lio wakes, he can tell by the quality of the light that it’s early.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 4
Kudos: 126





	Early Risers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plantboycharms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantboycharms/gifts).

> For the last few days, my friend Plantboycharms and I have been essentially playing a game, wherein I come up with dumb Lio/Galo fanfiction ideas, and he makes slap-dash pwp out of it. However, he recently wrote one for me that was NOT slap-dash, but was in fact a beautiful and soft story about these two beautiful characters, based on my favorite love scene from my favorite book series, and it was gorgeous and heartfelt, and wonderful.
> 
> He murdered me, is what I’m saying. So I wanted to return the favor by writing him something soft and heartfelt, because he deserves nice things. And because I’m now mildly obsessed with Sleepy Lio Fotia.

When Lio wakes, he can tell by the quality of the light that it’s early. Through the little apartment window, sunlight spills over the room in a bright wash, eliminating shadows and blurring the edges of objects.

Lio is sleepy, his body unwilling to move away from the warm, wide expanse of Galo’s form beside him. Blinking against the glare, Lio tilts his head up to look at Galo lying next to him on the pillow.

A pair of startlingly blue eyes gaze back at him through a frond of thick lashes, hooded and happy and calm. As Lio watches, they crinkle at the corners, sparkling with mirth and the growth of a slow smile. That smile is brighter than the room, and Lio has to close his eyes as he returns it.

He feels the mattress shift, and then Galo is nuzzling at his neck, shifting his weight to rest comfortably over Lio’s hips.

“Good morning,” Galo says, smiling against the skin of Lio’s throat.

“G’morning,” Lio mumbles, sweet, and rubs his eyes in a vain attempt to push away the exhaustion.

Galo’s hands slide into Lio’s hair, tilting his head gently back so Galo can press his lips to the jut of Lio’s Adam’s apple, his collarbone, his shoulder.

“You’re up early,” Lio manages, intelligently. Galo nods.

“I dreamt about you last night,” he says. “We were in a rocket ship.”

Lio huffs a laugh. “Oh?”

“One of those weird, tube-shaped ones,” Galo says, the words slightly muffled against the skin of Lio’s throat. “Like from an old kids’ cartoon. Those ones they used to show on TV sometimes, from before the Great World Blaze? Remember those?”

“Not really,” Lio answers honestly.

He doesn’t remember much from before he presented as Burnish, and afterward there was never exactly a lot of opportunity to sit quietly and consume Saturday morning television.

“Oh,” Galo says, sounding suddenly sad.

“It’s ok,” Lio assures him. Because it is ok, now. This moment is good. He doesn’t want the light to dim. “Tell me about them.”

“Well... Some were black-and-white,” Galo muses. “Others were in color. My dream was in color, though.”

“Mhm,” Lio hums, running slender fingers absently through Galo’s mane of wild hair, over and over again.

“We could see all the stars from these little windows. But they didn’t look like the stars we saw in the Galo de Lion. They looked like fireflies.” Galo continues, oblivious to Lio’s fading consciousness. “But then I suddenly got scared I’d left the stove on at home - I was afraid it would start a fire. And I kept trying to turn the ship around, but I couldn’t find the keys.”

“Idiot,” Lio chuckles. “Why would you need keys to steer a rocket ship?”

“I dunno, it was a dream.”

Lio can feel Galo’s mouth on his chest as he forms the words, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses from one sensitive nipple to the other. Lio hums in appreciation, but his limbs are heavy, his eyes stubbornly refusing to stay open, and when he speaks, his words come out around a yawn.

“I thought I was in your dream,” he says.

“You were.” Lio can hear a smile in Galo’s voice, feel the flash of teeth against his skin. “You kept distracting me from looking for the keys,” Galo says.

“Oh?” Lio asks, the syllable swallowed in another yawn. He can hear the breathy, insubstantial quality of his own voice. “How so?”

He is somewhat distantly aware of his hands resting in the tousled locks of Galo’s hair, stilled, and makes an effort to begin moving them again. But Galo’s head is lower now, and the loose blue strands brush against Lio’s stomach, tickling him. He squirms.

”Want me to show you?” Galo says, nipping lightly at the sharp angle of Lio’s hip. 

Galo shifts again, perhaps raising up onto his hands and knees, and the blanket lifts with him, exposing Lio to a shock of cold air.

Lio has frustratingly little sense, these days, of what might be considered ‘cold’to other people. The spectrum of most temperatures this side of ‘Galo, naked and pressed up against him beneath a small mountain of blankets’ comes to Lio as the simple, uncomplicated, inelegant constant, _cold_. 

Without the promare burning eternally beneath his skin, both his body and the world at large seem to be eternally freezing over.

”Galo,” he says, more a whine than a word. Galo’s hands are at his thighs, gripping tighter, and Lio’s exhausted muscles have begun to protest the sudden coiling tension inevitably brought on by Galo’s attentions. “Wait.”

Immediately, Galo stills, raising his head to check Lio’s expression. At least, Lio assumes that’s what he’s doing. He’s having trouble seeing the fact for himself. His eyes are dry and gritty, and keep falling closed of their own accord.

“Sorry... ‘M sorry,” Lio mutters, concentrating on forming consonants, only half sure the words are coming out right. “Love you... ‘S just too early.”

There is a pause, during which Lio takes a long, slow breath, and Galo’s weight disappears from atop his lower body - only to reappear comfortably beside him again. Lio rolls, creaking, onto his side, burrowing into that reassuring warmth.

“Ok,” Galo says, buoyantly unfazed. He wraps a careful arm about Lio’s shoulders, keeping him close. “Want to go back to sleep for a little while? We’re off shift today.”

Lio sighs, nodding softly, and presses his face into the heat of Galo’s shoulder.

“Sounds good. C’n we pick this up ‘n a few hours?”

“Of course.” Lio feels Galo press a kiss to his scalp. “As long as you’re ready to go for a few hours, once you wake up,” he teases. 

Lio grins.

”Deal.”


End file.
